


Bringing Ryan Home

by BrandSpankingNew



Series: Parenting in the OC [2]
Category: The OC (TV)
Genre: Fight or Flight, Gen, Manhandling, Spanking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-16
Updated: 2019-03-16
Packaged: 2019-11-19 00:06:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 3,756
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18128309
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BrandSpankingNew/pseuds/BrandSpankingNew





	1. Finders Keepers

Sandy drove along, listening to the radio, his arm hanging out the window. Another day. Another very long day.

They all felt long, after Ryan disappeared. He hadn't said a word last spring. All he'd left was a note.

 

> I'm fine.  Don't come looking for me. It's better that way. 
> 
> I'm sorry...
> 
> Ryan

 

Like anything had been normal since Ryan left. Sandy shook his head.

Seth had been moping all summer, lonely and angry, by turns spending his days either playing endless rounds of 'Ninja Fighter III" or at the comic book store. He didn't hang out with the girls...the car never disappeared and came back smashed into pieces...there were no impromptu trips to Tijuana. Sandy missed it.

And he knew Kirsten did too. He'd catch her pouring an extra cup of coffee sometimes, and then looking at it sadly before dumping it down the drain. 

Even Rosa wasn't immune. Sometimes Sandy would look out the window to the pool house and see her straightening the sheets on Ryan's old bed. It was hardly a secret that Ryan had been her favorite.

Nope. They all missed the kid. And they were all worried where he might have gone, and why.

Sandy thought Ryan had known that he and Kirsten would always help him if he had a problem. No matter what. So if there was a problem, why would he have just ran off like that?

And if there wasn't a problem, why would he feel he had to leave?

Sandy shook his head. He'd gone over these questions so many times, but he never came up with new solutions. And yet his mind kept stirring through them, over and over.

The traffic slowed to a crawl. Sandy checked his watch. Damn. He'd thought he was going to miss rush hour completely, but he'd gotten stuck in the tail end. Ah, well. It was a nice day. He'd enjoy the sunshine and the view.

He looked out his passenger window, to a half-finished construction site. As he crawled forward, he watched the workers. Ryan had wanted to be an architect, Sandy thought. He wondered again where the boy was.

His eyes caught a familiar looking figure. The way that guy was standing...that looked like Ryan.

Sandy sighed. He was always seeing young men who he mistook for Ryan. Everywhere he went, someone was slouching around in a gray sweatshirt, hands in his pocket, looking uncomfortable. He'd tapped a few of these guys on the shoulder, and it had never, ever been the kid he was looking for.

But he still studied the figure in a white teeshirt and hard hat. Could this one be him? How likely would that be? How many construction sites would hire a sixteen year old? Although, Ryan didn't look sixteen; maybe he could be mistaken for someone in their early twenties. But he'd need documentation.

Sandy sighed. He was almost positive that a kid from Chino, like Ryan was, would know how to get fake papers if he needed them.

The traffic inched forward, and Sandy got closer to the figure, who nodded his head twice at the man he'd been talking to, and turned away, heading towards a wheelbarrow.

Sandy nearly choked. It was Ryan. It really, truly was.


	2. Fetch Me if You Can

Sandy could hardly believe his eyes. _The kid_ , the freaking kid they'd been worried about all summer, was working ten minutes from his house?

He merged with the turn lane, and took a right, looking for the entrance to the construction site. Chain link fence surrounded the whole thing. He turned into the site, and parked the car before striding towards a gap in the fencing.

 Meanwhile, Ryan wiped sweat off his face with the back of a tanned arm. It was getting awfully hot out here, and he had hours to go before he could go back to the 'Y', where he'd been living ever since he left the Cohen house. He put the hard hat back on his head, and picked up his shovel.

He could hear footsteps misplacing the dirt behind him, but he didn't turn. If Manny had something to say, he could say it while Ryan worked, couldn't he?

Suddenly, a strong hand grabbed Ryan's shoulder. Ryan forced himself not to flinch; he didn't want the guys he worked with out here to think he was jumpy. "What do you want, Manny?" he asked, planting the head of the shovel into the ground next to him.

"It's not Manny, kid."

Ryan stiffened. He recognized that voice. He'd figured he'd never hear it again.

"Sandy?" he said.

 Sandy felt Ryan's shoulder stiffen under his hand when he spoke, and instinctively he tightened his grip. Ryan could be nervous sometimes. Sandy doubted he'd go for fight, not with him, but flight was definitely possible. "Got it in one," he said to his foster son.

Thoughts flashed through Ryan's mind like lightning. What was Sandy doing here? How had he found him? He'd known it had been a bad idea to stick with this job so close to the Cohen house! Now what would happen? He was so screwed. Should he run for it? No...Sandy would catch him.

"What are you doing here?" Ryan asked, his back still to Sandy.

"Look at me, kid," Sandy said. His grip loosened on Ryan's shoulder.

Reluctantly, Ryan turned to face Sandy. Well, he hadn't changed. Still dressed in a suit, eyebrows furrowed, looking completely furious.

"What are you doing here?" Ryan repeated, trying to sound nonchalant.

"What am I doing here? What are YOU doing here, Ryan? Why the hell would you just run off, not even let us know where you were going? Do you have any idea how worried we were about you?"

Sandy couldn't believe the kid's question. Did he think that the Cohens hadn't looked for him? They'd checked every youth shelter in the state!

"You're coming home with me, right now," Sandy said. "C'mon."

Ryan shook his shoulder from Sandy's grip. "Can't. Gotta work." He reached for his shovel.

"The hell you do," Sandy said. "I don't know how you got a job here, at your age without documentation, but you're done, today. You're coming home!"

Ryan just shook his head and put the shovel in the ground. Sandy growled, and grabbed the teen's arm. He almost missed the nearly imperceptible flinch the boy gave. 

"Listen to me, Ryan. You're either going to come home with me, or I'll get the cops to pick you up, but either way, you're not staying here. Last chance, kid."  He tried to make eye contact. 

Ryan shut his eyes. How had this happened? He knew if the cops picked him up, the only one who could bail him out was Sandy anyway, since he was still officially Ryan's legal guardian. Dammit.

"All right," Ryan said softly. He left the shovel where it was and turned towards Sandy, who cautiously released his arm. He seemed ready to grab again if Ryan tried to bolt though,  so Ryan didn't bother. 

"All right," Sandy repeated. "You got any stuff here?"

Ryan bobbed his head once, and Sandy followed the teen as he got his stuff: his gray sweatshirt and bike.

"Got anything else?"

Ryan shook his head. He could get his stuff from the 'Y' later, once Sandy decided to let him go. How hard could it possibly be to convince him that everyone was better off without Ryan in their house?

"Alright then. Put your bike in the trunk. We're going home."


	3. Convincing of an Unfamiliar Truth

Ryan was tense. Now what was going to happen?

He'd done a lot of stupid things as far as the Cohens went. A lot of them. Burning down the model home. Ruining cotillion. Lying about the trip to Tijuana. Especially considering what had happened to Marissa. And then Luke had gotten shot. All his fault. Ryan winced.

He'd figured he was fixing everything by leaving. So why was Sandy bringing him back?

They were in the den. Sandy had pointed at the couch. "Sit. And don't even think about moving."

Ryan swallowed, trying to keep his anxiety under control.  His heart thrummed in his chest. 

Sandy sat in the arm chair and studied the kid in front of him, who sat with his head hanging, his hands clenched tensely between his knees. They hadn't spoken on the way home. Sandy had been thinking.

What on earth was he supposed to do about this? He couldn't  _force_ Ryan to stay with them, not really. If it had been Seth...Sandy actually didn't know what he would have done if it had been Seth. But it wasn't Seth, it was Ryan.

Well, if nothing else, one thing Sandy knew how to do was talk. He took a breath.

"You ran away. Two and a half months, you've been missing. You left a note that told us nothing, and scared the entire family. Why?"

He watched the teen's face. It didn't even flicker.

"You know you're welcome here. You're always welcome here. Did you feel like you had to go?" Sandy continued. "Because if you did, you were wrong. We want you here. We missed you. A lot."

He saw Ryan's adam's apple bob as he swallowed. That was something. Sandy pressed on.

"Come on, kid. Talk to me, please?"

Ryan sighed, very quietly. "Why'd you bring me back?" he asked.

At least the kid was speaking. It was a start.

"Ryan, are you listening to me? I brought you back because you shouldn't have left! You belong here, with us. We're your family! We love you!"

Ryan shook his head. The Cohens, his family? How the hell could they be his family? They were rich, and mannered, and mostly functional. That wasn't his family. He was an Atwood—pure white trash. That was why he'd ended up causing so much trouble. It wasn't that he was trying to mess up—it was just part of his nature. And love? That was for other people, not Ryan. 

"Why are you shaking your head?" Sandy asked.

Ryan shrugged.

"Don't you want to live with us?" Sandy asked. Now he sounded hurt.

Ryan didn't move. Of course he wanted to stay with the Cohens. When he was a little kid and he'd huddled under his bed, listening to his parents screaming and fighting, throwing things, he'd dreamed of a normal family. Even as he'd gotten older, the wish never went away. He'd simply shoved it to the back of his mind. But Ryan was old enough to know that no one would want a kid like him, who caused trouble every time he turned around. Time to let the dream go.

Sandy couldn't read Ryan's face. The kid was so closed off, so unlike Seth who was like an open book. "Answer me, Ryan," he said.

"I'm not your family," Ryan mumbled to the floor. "I was screwing everything up for you. All of you. That's why I left."

Sandy stared. He couldn't believe what he was hearing. Before he realized it, he'd jumped up in front of Ryan.

"Not our family? Like hell you're not!" Sandy's voice got louder with each word.

Ryan was on his feet in a flash, not avoiding Sandy's eyes anymore. "How could someone like me be your family, Sandy? Huh? I'm not smart and perfect like Seth. I don't belong here, with all your fancy 'benefits' and 'cotillions' and whatever. Those benefits are for people  _like_  me. And even if you deny it, your neighbors sure agree with me!"

"Why do you care about what the neighbors think?" Sandy growled back. "That has nothing to do with it!"

"The hell it doesn't!" Ryan yelled. Now he was furious too. "I belong in a place like Chino, okay? You don't have to play savior with me!"

"We're not playing savior, Ryan!" Sandy cried, exasperated. "We just care about you! Can't you understand that?"

"Guess I'm too dumb," Ryan said. "More proof that I'm not your family!"

"What do I have to do, Ryan?" Sandy asked, lowering his voice. Ryan glared at him, his blue eyes cold. "Huh? What would I have to do, to make you believe that we care about you, we love you-"

"Don't give me that bull!" Ryan yelled angrily.

Well, maybe he was family after all, he thought as he watched Sandy's hands fly up. That'd be how the Atwoods would prove it. Ryan couldn't help the instinctive, hard flinch.

But Sandy didn't hit him. Instead, those hands landed on his shoulders, in a tight squeeze. "Sorry, kid," he said. "I didn't mean to scare you." His voice was soft. Babying. Ryan went from fear to anger in an instant.

He shoved Sandy _hard_. "I'm not scared, and I'm not a kid!" Ryan yelled, watching in what seemed like slow motion as Sandy stumbled backwards. Fear and regret flooded his system.  He tore towards the back door as Sandy regained his footing.

"That's ENOUGH!" Sandy shouted, bursting after him.  Ryan was going to go about it like this, rough and tough? Well, Sandy had grown up that way too. He knew how to get through to the kid. 

The door had been locked, and that was how Sandy caught him. He tackled the teen right against the sliding glass. Part of him was surprised the entire door didn't shatter. The other part was furious.

"Let me go!" Ryan yelled, struggling. He was strong...but he had his arms crushed between his back and Sandy, and Sandy was definitely taller than him. "I don't belong here, Sandy, okay!" Didn't they get that they couldn't help him? That he was just a screw up, and that wasn't going to be fixed? That he wasn't their obligation? "I'm not your family!"

Something in Sandy snapped. "Yes. You are," he said. He pulled the teen away from the door, and back towards the couch, though Ryan put up a decent struggle.  "You want proof, kid? Here's your proof.  We aren't going to let you run anymore!"

Ryan's heart was pounding. He hadn't had a clue how strong Sandy was until right then, as he was manhandled towards the den. What the hell was happening?  God, he was so screwed.  He'd earned this one, at least. 

It took a matter of seconds for Sandy to sit down and fight him down over his lap. _Over his lap_? Ryan shut his eyes in embarrassment. This couldn't be happening; hadn't happened to him since he was a little kid. Couldn't Sandy just  _hit_  him, like anyone else would?

"You're going to  _spank_  me?" Ryan yelped, struggling with all his might. Sandy's arms pinned him down. Ryan's feet scrambled helplessly against the floor but got no traction. _Shit!_

"Something has to get through to you!" Sandy replied. "You push me? Get physical? Well, you know that I'm not going to harm you, kid, but I think you need a little reality check about who's in charge."  Sandy threw one leg over Ryan's,  pinning him securely. 

"I'm not your kid!" Ryan yelled, fighting against Sandy's arm barred tightly across his back. Why the _hell_ was a middle-aged lawyer so freaking _strong_?

SMACK! Ryan stiffened as Sandy's palm slapped hard on his backside. Oh shit, this was really happening. He gritted his teeth. SMACK!

"Yes, you are!" Sandy said. SMACK! He swatted him again. He hadn't spanked Seth since he was twelve...but he remembered how. SMACK!

"So your plan—mmf-is to spank me—umph-until I break? Mff!" Ryan couldn't help the grunts that emerged as Sandy spanked. "Your hand—ugh-will break first." He hoped, at least.  His ass was burning.

"I'm not trying to break you, Ryan!" Sandy said. He stopped for a second. "I'm trying to make you realize that I'm the adult here. That's my job. And your job is to be the kid."

"I'm not a damn kid!"

Sandy shook his head, looking down at the teenager pinned over his lap. He didn't want to keep going, but dammit, Ryan wasn't listening to a word he said.

SMACK! SMACK! Sandy laid down a heavy rhythm. "Listen to me, Ryan," Sandy said sternly. "If you weren't a kid, I wouldn't be punishing you; I'd call the cops and report assault. And if you weren't  _my_  kid, you wouldn't be over  _my_  knees!" SMACK!

Ryan didn't say anything, because he was pretty sure if he tried to talk, he'd cry out. His eyes were filling. He was used to being punched—one, two good hits, and then he'd usually end up on the floor and the boyfriend of the week would stop. But this? This wasn't stopping, and being slapped in the same place over and over had a different kind of pain, like fire instead of like a deep ache. It seemed worse.

His fists were clenched so tight that his knuckles were white. "Ow! Sandy, stop!" he managed.

SMACK! SMACK! Ryan thought his ass might burn off if this didn't end soon. He felt the tears in his eyes fall over his cheeks. For all his tough talk, Ryan was breaking.

"Please!" Ryan moaned. "Please stop!" He gasped for air. "Sandy!"

Sandy's heart clenched at Ryan's pitiful plea. He stopped. He could feel Ryan's chest rising and falling under his arm as the teen struggled to compose himself. "Can I get up?" he heard Ryan mumble.

Silently, Sandy took his arm and helped him up. Ryan wouldn't look at him. Sandy didn't release his arm. He saw a few streaks on the boy's down-turned face.

"Ah, kid..." Sandy said sympathetically. Ryan's shoulders slumped.

"P-please don't-" Ryan said. "I'm not..." Ryan sounded like he just wanted to break down and sob. "I'm not good enough...to be..." His voice drifted off.

He couldn't be a part of the Cohen family. He wasn't good enough to belong to them. Why didn't Sandy understand?

But Sandy did understand. He spoke softly to the teen. "You are. You're good enough, Ryan. No matter what. You're our kid. We love you. Even if you run, we're always going to be here, worrying about you, waiting to hear from you, missing you. Even when you're forty. That's what parents do." Sandy stood up and wrapped his arms around Ryan. He felt Ryan tense, but he didn't let go. "That's what we do."

Ryan stood there as Sandy held him, feeling ashamed and beyond confused. He'd pushed Sandy. Physically pushed him. Sandy had punished him; he'd  _spanked_  Ryan like he was a little kid. And now Sandy was hugging him? Was telling him that he was good enough? That they worried about him? That...they loved him?

It made no sense. Even now, he was messing up, and yet Sandy wasn't letting him go. The realization made Ryan sag. "I'm sorry, Sandy," he said into the man's shoulder.

"I know," Sandy said, still holding him tight. "I know


	4. Home Again, Home Again

Sandy looked down at Ryan, who was curled up on his side, lying on the couch in front of the TV. The kid appeared to be fast asleep.

It figured that he'd be tired. That had been a major blow-up today. Sandy sighed.

He would have rather things had gone differently; would have rather that Ryan had allowed himself to be folded back into the family without a fight. But that wasn't Ryan's way.

Ryan was still, his eyes shut, but he could sense that Sandy was standing over him. Not in a bad way; he was just watching over him. Being protective.

That was not what he had thought would happen today; not by any stretch of the imagination. He'd figured that if he told Sandy why he'd left, Sandy would agree with him and let him leave. And when that didn't happen, he'd figured he could piss him off so bad that Sandy would kick him out. He hadn't thought of any scenario that could send Sandy into big-bad-daddy mode and get his ass whooped like a kid. Nope. Not in a million years.

But he was here, on the Cohens couch, lying on his side so it didn't make his ass hurt, waiting for Kirsten and Seth to get home.

_Home_.

Sandy heard the front door open. He walked into the kitchen at the same time that Kirsten and Seth did.

"Hi, Sandy." Kirsten dropped a couple containers of takeout onto the counter and pecked her husband on the lips. "We have Thai."

Sandy was beaming. Seth cocked his head.

"Thai's great and all," he said, "but I'm not sure it's an occasion for explosive joy. Seriously, Dad, what's up?"

"Saw someone today," he said.

Kirsten was spooning noodles into dishes. "Who would that be?" she asked absently.

Ryan stepped into the kitchen. "Me?" he said quietly.

He watched as both Seth and Kirsten's eyes went wide. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Sandy's grin broaden.

"Ryan!" Kirsten gasped, dropping the carton in her hand. "You're home!" She rushed towards him.

"Oh my God. Ryan? You're back?" Seth crossed the kitchen in seconds and the boys clasped hands. A second later, Kirsten's arms surrounded them both.

"I'm so glad you're all right!" Kirsten said. "We've been so worried about you, sweetheart." She tightened her grip.

"Wait. So Ryan, what happened? Where've you been? And how'd you get back? Please tell me you're not gonna leave again, 'cause this summer has sucked without you. I mean, seriously. You're not gonna leave again, right?" Seth spoke all of this squashed by his mother's hug between Kirsten and Ryan.

"Leave again?" Ryan said.

Sandy caught his eye from across the room. The look on his face clearly told him he'd better not even consider it or there'd be a round two like this afternoon.

Ryan shook his head. "I'm not leaving again," he said.

Kirsten started suddenly. "You need a plate. Thai sound okay? If I would have known I would have cooked-"

"Thai's great," Ryan assured her.

"Yeah, Mom. You don't want to kill him on his first night back," Seth said.

"Oh, ha ha, Seth," Kirsten said.

"It's true, honey. You do have a tendency to create chaos in the kitchen," Sandy said helpfully.

Ryan took his plate and sat down at the table, wincing momentarily as his butt hit the seat. Kirsten saw the wince.

"Are you sure Thai's okay?" she asked as the rest of the family sat down.

"This is perfect," Ryan said. And the Thai was nice, too.


End file.
